


Steady Beats

by Renabe



Category: RWBY
Genre: Clover's having A Time, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Qrow's helping him through it, Tendie like chickie nuggie, also uhhhh feels, lots of 'em, sweet lads working it out, they're both trying their best okay?, traveling in Vacuo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:15:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27921373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Renabe/pseuds/Renabe
Summary: "Sorry," he offers. "I don't want to push you, but this is the third time. Today.""Fourth."So it is, Qrow realises, noting how his finger is being squeezed so tightly evenhecan feel the pulse thrumming within.
Relationships: Qrow Branwen/Clover Ebi
Comments: 20
Kudos: 87





	Steady Beats

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is set some time after Built for a Journey and goes rather well with a piece I drew during Clovember, so I'll link it here:
> 
> https://renabe4life.tumblr.com/post/636183843073818624/clovember-day-29-love-loving-yourself-is
> 
> Loving yourself is reaching out  
> Seeking care when you need it  
> Loving another is holding on  
> Accepting that hand when it is offered

"Clover!"

His voice is sharp, jarring the man into stillness mid retreat. Qrow sighs as green eyes look away in shame. He stands beside him and waits.

Clover hesitantly reaches out, index finger brushing Qrow's pinky. Qrow links them together.

"Sorry," he offers. "I don't want to push you, but this is the third time. Today."

"Fourth."

So it is, Qrow realises, noting how his finger is being squeezed so tightly even _he_ can feel the pulse thrumming within. 

"Clover," he says more gently this time, "What can I do to reassure you?"

For the last several days, the man has been trying, and failing miserably, to hide this newfound need to constantly feel Qrow's pulse. It's not that Qrow minds, he would happily let Clover hold his hand, press lips to his wrist, bury his face in his neck to let him know that everything is fine. That he is safe.

It's the thinly veiled panic that Clover seeks to cover up by throwing a casual arm over his shoulder, fingers not so casually pressed against the column of his neck, that has him concerned. The sneaky way he reaches for these pulse points, disguised as simple familiarity. Qrow knows something is wrong and wants to help. But he can't help if Clover won't talk to him.

The brunet takes a deep breath, forces fingers to relax their hold. "I don't know," he admits weakly. "I've never… Qrow, I didn't used to be afraid of losing someone. Not like this.” Of course the possibility has always been there, but this fear that grips him these days is like nothing he’s ever felt before. He’s barely keeping it together.

“I always… had luck on my side. But if it can't always save _me_ , how do I know that you…" He trails off, throat too tight to continue.

Ah.

Qrow thinks back to when he first noticed this new habit. Nasty Grimm hoard between villages, Qrow took a hit to protect Clover, who had been slower to react than usual. Weary under the desert sun, and out of everyone, the Atlesians in their party were having the hardest time adapting to the new climate. Clover wasn't at his best, so Qrow compensated, took a calculated risk.

Something Clover is still learning to do without his semblance clouding his judgement. And Qrow has him sworn off using it except in a dire emergency, to try and work on that. Clover did well and caught himself before he could flick his recently gifted charm to activate it.

He did exactly as Qrow had asked of him.

But.

Qrow got hurt.

It looked a lot worse than it actually was, but Clover didn't take it well. And is clearly still affected by it, Qrow now reasons to himself, if this new ritual is anything to go by. He stifles the voice inside that tells him this is his fault, that he’s the reason Clover is in pain.

Qrow takes responsibility for the initial worry he caused, and for the lack of lucky breaks their group has received lately as a result of his request. But after watching Clover run himself ragged during the first weeks of his journey with them? Activating his semblance left and right to protect a group of fully fledged hunters who would handle whatever was thrown their way with or without his help?

The huntsman would not allow himself to feel guilty for protecting the one who needs it most right now.

“I don’t wanna lose you. I’m scared.”

The timid admission stirs Qrow from his thoughts, and an understanding smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. "Was that so hard?" he asks, light and teasing.

Clover frowns, brows knit together in frustration. "It _is_ hard, and it's not funny."

Qrow laces their fingers together firmly. "You're right. It's not funny. It's gods’ damned terrifying. And… now you know how the rest of us feel."

Green flicks sharply toward him, and Qrow turns to meet that gaze. Red unwavering and deadly serious. Losing the wind in his sails, Clover heaves a sigh. Right. He shouldn't complain. Everyone else has had to deal with this their whole lives. He's _lucky_ he never had to before. 

A thumb traces worn leather, drawing Clover's attention back to their joined hands.

"But this is new for you, and I know it's going to take you some time to learn how to accept it and just keep moving."

And Clover finds himself caught again. Of course Qrow understands how difficult this is. He isn't trying to make him feel guilty. He merely wants him to put it into proper perspective. Somehow, Qrow did a lot of growing during the short time he was gone. And he's waiting patiently while Clover tries so desperately to catch up. He just… seems to keep stumbling.

"I'm trying."

He curses his voice for cracking on two little words that should be so easy to say. There’s no shame in trying and failing at something new, he knows. He _knows_ this, but it does little to quell the dread that turns his stomach and causes normally steady hands to shake.

"I know you are." Qrow smiles faintly, turns to fully face him. "And there's no hurry. Just… let me be there for you while you figure it out?"

And the look in those warm vermilion eyes is too tender, much like the words he speaks. Clover bites down on a trembling lip, willing it to stop as he nods mutely. Not trusting his voice.

Qrow tugs on their linked hands, pulls him closer. His free hand reaches up to cup a cheek before sliding back into short brunet strands, guiding him closer still. Clover accepts, letting his head fall onto a shoulder, free hand finding its own place at Qrow's back, fingers clutching lightly at fabric.

Finally, he is able to relax somewhat. Whatever was so tightly wound about him is delicately unraveled by long, deft fingers, practiced in their soothing caresses. He breathes a sigh, releasing the last of his tension against warm skin, nuzzling at the base of Qrow's neck.

"You're doing it again," Qrow laughs, airy and bright.

Clover huffs, tempted to nip at skin, as he protests, "You pulled me into this hug."

"That's fair."

Forgoing a verbal reply, Clover simply clings a bit tighter. He wonders if this is how Qrow feels in the middle of the night, when he presses an ear so desperately against his chest, needing to hear his heartbeat for sleep to find him.

It must be, he thinks as Qrow noses at his own neck. The only difference being that Qrow is completely honest about his needs. He seeks out these tender touches, makes his intentions and insecurities known with every brush of contact. And it is not as though Clover intends to be deceitful. He is merely struggling against a lifelong habit of telling himself he’s fine.

He’s not fine. He knows it. Qrow knows it. The kids probably know it too. And he sees now just how futile it is to keep pretending.

“Is… it really okay?” That he can’t hold himself together. That he can’t breathe without the gentle pressure of this steady beat against his skin. That he can’t be useful without a constant reminder that the most precious rhythm this world has to offer is still drumming along.

“Of course it is,” Qrow rasps, fingers clenched tightly in brunet. Doesn’t Clover know there’s no need to hide behind that mask of perfection anymore? “I understand if sometimes you need to hide from the kids, hell, I understand if you need to hide from _yourself_.” Brothers know he’s done plenty of that, years of it.

“But please... don’t hide from me.”

Oh.

Clover squeezes the hand that holds his, lifts his head to press lips to the curve of a jaw, to trace his nose along a cheek as Qrow raises his head too. How nearsighted of him to not see past his insecurities to how hard Qrow is fighting his own.

He inhales deeply, draws back just enough to meet that gaze. “I won’t.”

A promise.

Something he’s learned not to make lightly with Qrow. Not that he was ever the type to make promises he did not intend to keep. But in his time with the huntsman, he has grown to only make promises he knows he _will_ keep. Seems Qrow is teaching him a lot these days.

And as relief washes over that beloved face, eyes soften, crinkling at the corners in sheer joy at earnest words. And to think Clover could have had this sooner if he’d only felt less ashamed of his worries. He doesn’t try to fight the smile that breaks across his face, nuzzling noses together gleefully.

“Don’t complain when I start to get annoying,” he grins, finally feeling light enough to joke.

With a roll of his eyes, Qrow pushes their foreheads together, bites down on a lower lip to keep from laughing in the man’s face. And red flicks between green, a little nervous, a lot elated.

“Don’t shy away when you don’t need the reassurance anymore.”

_Oh._

This is about more than letting Qrow know he trusts him to accept his fears and offer comfort. More than reaching out when he needs it. It’s also about reaching out simply because he wants to. Because Clover does want to, and he and Qrow both decided not to hold back, especially as they try to figure out this road to recovery, together.

Clover wraps his arm more firmly about Qrow, pulling their bodies flush together. “And if I get bolder instead?”

“Fine by me.” Lips quirk into a crooked smile, so close Clover can almost feel it against his own lips. “But I’ll tell you if I need some space, shamrock. You’ll do the same?”

“I get the feeling I won’t need to, birdie.” He has to stifle a laugh at Qrow’s sudden chastising scowl. “I will, I will,” he surrenders, “if I need to. Now are you gonna kiss me or what?”

Qrow huffs, “Dunno, you gonna keep being a brat?”

“You know it.”

“You’re lucky I lo-”

Qrow cuts himself off, eyes wide in realisation of what he was about to say.

“Qrow?”

It’s too soon, much too soon, he thinks frantically. But the hope in that whisper of his name draws red to green. Both surprised, both searching. And if feeling his own pulse was unsettling before, it is almost unbearable now. Pounding loudly in his ears, so much that any thoughts he still had fade away, and he is left with nothing but the sight before him.

Oh but the way seafoam stares back, yearning, squeezing his chest and stilling his breath. Maybe it would be okay.

“I,” he gasps, needing a moment to draw new air. He swallows hard, eyes ducking down briefly before meeting Clover’s again, unwilling to stay away for long. “I…”

He does not get the chance to finish as green eyes swiftly close and lips press against his. Gentle. Calming his racing heart and settling his mind. He sighs into the kiss, allowing eyelids to fall shut. And as those lips retreat, he gives chase, almost muffling words that slip from them.

“Me too,” Clover murmurs against skin, and Qrow draws back abruptly. He gazes disbelieving into those brilliant eyes dancing with mirth. Not doubting the words, but offended all the same.

He grouses halfheartedly, “Would you let me say it first?”

“Hm, bit late for that,” Clover laughs, “but since I love you, I’ll let you say it second.”

Qrow yanks him into another kiss, more demanding than the first. Greedily stealing breath as fingers tangle further in brunet, holding him right where he wants him. And he feels the arm around him tighten, serving much the same purpose. Oh, but he’s not letting the brat off easy, kissing him deeply, hungrily, sure to leave them both lightheaded and panting when lips finally part.

“I love you,” he rushes out between breaths, hand releasing short strands to slide down to the nape of his neck, thumb tracing patterns on skin. “I love you, Clover.” And he cannot keep the smile from his face, so wide his cheeks begin to hurt. And he couldn’t care one bit.

Not when Clover is beaming just as brightly, eyes glassy as he replies, “I love _you_ , Qrow.”

Perhaps it’s not too soon at all, Qrow thinks as he snatches another quick kiss. Here he was, fully intent on reminding Clover of their promise to go all in, to be honest and open with everything they’re feeling on this journey. And in the midst of it he finds he sometimes needs a little nudge back on course too.

And Clover, ever adapting Clover, only needed a hint at why he’s been fumbling before he’s righting himself. That and, seeing Qrow slip has him racing forward to meet him, self doubt forgotten, no longer keeping him from closing that distance.

“Thank you.”

Qrow looks at him curiously. “For what?”

“For being patient with me.”

“Of course. I can’t do this alone, you know.”

And they both just smile, knowing.

Knowing that _this_ means _us_.


End file.
